BLESSED ARE THE DEAD

A great sign appeared Under the stars and the moon Sounds of galloping horses On clouds of lightning and thunder A dark and gathering storm To scorch the earth for many generations A nuclear winter Worse than any cold or holy war A white horse on the clouds of death A red warhorse to end all wars A pale horse and pestilence led By a black horse with famine and scales The doctrine of harted, nation will rise against nation Wash me in blood and let me be the first born of the dead A crowned rider with arrows and bow A red rider with a great fiery sword Plagues from the one colored death Horror and apocalypse follows Ride, won't you four horsemen ride again Before this kingdom's blown to kingdom come Ride, I hold fast to what I believe till I see my name in stone Blessed are the dead, that they may rest A white horse on the clouds of death A red warhorse to end all wars A pale horse and pestilence led By a black horse with famine and scales The doctrine of harted, nation will rise against nation Wash me in blood and let me be the first born of the dead A crowned rider with arrows and bow A red rider with a great fiery sword Plagues from the one colored death Horror and apocalypse follows Ride, won't you four horsemen ride again Before this kingdom's blown to kingdom come Ride, I hold fast to what I believe till I see my name in stone Blessing the dead